


Torchbearer

by kiite



Category: One Piece
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Pre-Canon, just a lot of talking and some fighting, really cannot think of anything to tag this with. Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26817139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiite/pseuds/kiite
Summary: Whitebeard recruits his first crewmate.
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Shirohige | Whitebeard | Edward Newgate
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	Torchbearer

**Author's Note:**

> a short little thing ive had sitting around for way too long! I like fics about Whitebeard’s first meetings with any of his commanders so I wanted to do a lil one with Marco :-) enjoy

The boy stands on the path just outside town, fists clenched tight, so much so that his sharp nails are drawing blood from his palms. He has the silhouette of a human, but one of his legs is unnatural, skin becoming harder the closer it gets to his taloned foot. 

Only a fool would fail to notice the fresh blood glinting off those talons, and Edward Newgate is no fool. 

“Move,” is all the boy says, coldly, looking the towering man before him in the eyes without a hint of fear. Every inch of him— which is, admittedly, not that many— is tensed, intense anger radiating off his small body. He reminds Newgate of himself as a child; too much for his liking, in fact.

“I’m not in the business of taking orders from anyone,” Newgate answers gruffly, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “Least of all, a squirt like you.” 

A bit of the boy’s cold composure cracks, and he raises his clawed foot threateningly. “ _ Move, _ ” he repeats, eyes narrowing. “Or I’ll make you move.” 

Newgate can’t help the hearty laugh that bubbles out of him. “Guess the townsfolk weren’t lyin’; you really are a little spitfire, ain’t ya?” When he is met with nothing but a snarl, Newgate continues. “Tell me, brat: why do you stand out here picking fights all day?” 

“Because I’m good at it,” the boy replies plainly, as though it is the most obvious thing in the world, “Because I can’t lose.” 

With that declaration, he decides the time for talking is over and launches himself at Newgate. Feathers blossom from the skin of his arms like flower buds poking their way out of the earth, and before long he has two fully formed wings. Flames border the tips of his feathers, curling outwards. His technique, though, is sloppy; he flaps frantically to get himself into the air for attacks, but Newgate gets the impression that the kid doesn’t know how to fly properly and can’t sustain it for more than a few minutes. 

But he keeps getting back up. No matter how many times he is thrown to the ground, the boy is back up seemingly instantly, talons poised to tear flesh and strike bone. This continues for a while, until exhaustion catches up to the boy. He is seemingly uninjured, which Newgate figures is probably thanks to his power— but using that power seems to drain him. He struggles to his feet again, and Newgate understands that he won’t let the fight end until one of them dies. Sadly for the boy, Newgate has no intention of dying right now. 

Sitting himself down cross-legged on the empty road, Newgate puts his hands flat on his knees. “I say we call it a draw, or this fight will never end.” Blood drips slowly from the many cuts and scratches on his chest and arms, but he doesn’t feel it. 

“No,” the boy says, swaying as he turns to face the much larger man. “I’m not afraid of dying. I’m not afraid of getting hurt. I just want to fight.”

Newgate considers him, considers his words and his empty drive and his bloody talons, and speaks. “Let’s make a wager,” he starts, resting his cheek in his hand, “on which is stronger: a boy with nothing to lose, or a man with something to protect.” 

The boy narrows his eyes, clearly not in the mood for conversation. “So you’ll get back up and fight me?” he asks, dropping into a shaky fighting stance. “I’ll win.”

“I wasn’t talking about myself, boy,” Newgate answers, extending a hand. “Join my crew, sail the seas as my son, and become that man. Find something to lose.” 

“Be your son? No way! And why would I want something to lose?” The boy snorts, disdain clear in his voice. “Only an idiot would give himself a weakness.” 

Newgate grins, leaning forward. “That’s simple… ‘Cause you’ll fight like hell to keep it safe. Even the tamest animal will bare its fangs when it has something to guard.” He pauses, thinking for a moment. “Maybe you’ll pick up some other hobbies along the way, too. Anything you like besides fighting?” 

The kid ponders the question, still scowling and clearly cagey. “I guess I like… maps?” he says at last, sounding unsure. Newgate gestures for him to continue, and, reluctantly, he does. “I like reading maps, and making new ones. It’s like… a puzzle, I guess. There’s something exciting about it.” 

“Would’ya look at that!” Newgate exclaims, still grinning. “You’ve already got a hobby! As a matter of fact, I could use a navigator.” 

“...You don’t have a navigator?” the boy asks, genuinely surprised. “Actually… how many men are in your crew?”

“You’d be the first.” 

“You can’t be serious,” the boy says, deadpan, and then drags a hand over his face, “why would I agree to that?” 

Newgate shrugs, pushing himself to his feet. “There’s not a single person in this world who doesn’t have something they want. And I’ve got a feeling that you’re not gonna find what  _ you  _ want by staying on this island and fighting senselessly for the rest of your life.” He pauses for a moment, before adding, “I’ll be shipping out from the docks over there at sunset. Make your decision before then, lad.” 

With that, Newgate starts off back towards his ship, towards the coast. He doesn’t look back; if the kid wants to come, then he’ll come. 

Sunset comes quickly, with Newgate all ready to sail out. His grin widens when he spots a small figure coming his way, carrying nothing. The kid looks at his ship, disappointment palpable as he speaks. 

“It’s small,” is all he says, crossing his arms.

“Gets me where I need to be,” Newgate replies, leaning on his arm. “I’ll get a bigger one later.”

Sighing, the kid sprouts his wings and flaps awkwardly up to perch on the highest point he can find on the small boat. He looks down at Newgate for a minute before jerking his head away like a petulant child.

Newgate laughs, slapping his knee at the distinctly bird-like behavior. “What’s your name, kid?” 

Without turning back, the kid mumbles out an answer. “Marco.”

“Well, Marco,” Newgate says, rising and stretching an arm out. Despite Marco’s high perch, Newgate’s hand nearly reaches him. “Congratulations on becoming the second member of the Whitebeard pirates, son.”

Marco looks down at his new captain’s gargantuan hand, cautiously reaching out his wing to accept the handshake. “I hope I don’t regret this,” he mutters.

“Same here!” Newgate rumbles, laughing as Marco spits some choice words at him. With that, the two of them sail off in search of more crewmates, more family.

**Author's Note:**

> I dig when people write lil kid marco as all pissy and angry before he joined the WBP, it’s such a good contrast to his laid back demeanor as an adult... that’s why he’s so angy... thanks for readin!


End file.
